The Round Table Affair

The Round Table Affair, isn't the best episode, unfortunately, but there are lots of lovely moments that come up. In which Napoleon and Illya spend a long time in a closet, and then come out of it together, and then there’s a wedding.

In which Illya establishes himself from the get-go as cool.

 In which the baddie’s car is sexier than Illya’s, because it’s an E Type Jaguar.

In which the car chase lasts all day and all night, and the viewer wonders about the fuel consumption on a Jaguar E Type.

   In which the star villain is rather cute and Illya fails to correct the assumption that he’s American.

Star villain isn’t as cute as Illya struck down by a statue of St George, though. He goes through a lovely range of little facial expressions while enduring a kind of stone hug from the statue which are worth watching.

Small but mighty. Artie could be describing Illya, but unfortunately he’s describing the Sovereign State of Ingolstein. Ingolstein is one of those strange little made up European countries. Like Wales.

This is the face of a man who’s resigned, as a law enforcement agent, to giving in to the law

It’s also the face of a man who’s completely bewildered.

Napoleon’s never heard of Ingolstein either. It’s one of those places almost no one has heard of, Waverly assures him. Like Wales, I suppose. Or perhaps rather more like Monaco or Andorra or Lichtenstein.

At least Napoleon has his priorities straight.

Poor Illya is reduced to standing on a stool in a gaol cell (I choose the spelling gaol deliberately. It’s old.) I think those are manacles on the floor. And straw.

At least he’s been left with his communicator, and a pair of binoculars.

This place is almost aggressively German. I mean, not aggressively in that way. Aggressively by dint of the superfluity of leiderhosen, blonde plaits, sauerkraut, and knockwurst.

Far be it from me to sexualise poor Illya while he’s stuck in a gaol cell, but god, look at that mouth… He’s been here for so long that he’s learnt to recognise not only all of the no-good mafia types eating and drinking at the street café outside (poor Illya, watching all that dining while trapped in a gaol cell), but also the exact drinks they are drinking.

It’s quite nice just watching his mouth move while the binoculars are in front of his eyes, but the whole package is quite nice too. Poor Illya gets cut off rather brusquely by Waverly, though. Maybe he’s spent too much time forlornly calling in on his communicator to reel off the café’s drinks list.

So it turns out pretty much the entire of U.N.C.L.E.’s most wanted list is there in Ingolstein, taking advantage of the fact that the country has no extradition treaty. A fine prize indeed for the U.N.C.L.E. agent canny enough to sort this one out.

Look how pleased Napoleon is when he finds out that he’s going to have to go in in the full diplomatic kit, including striped trousers. He’s also quite appreciative of the Regent Prince Frederick’s hobbies, which mostly include gambling, cognac, and ballerinas. He’s also happy to be going off to Paris to talk to the young, but not too young, Grand Duchess Victoria Adelaide Dagmar Alexandra Maude Xenia about the situation. I like the way she’s named initially after places in Australia.

This is the face of a man who’s found himself in a convent school full of eighteen year old young ladies who have been repressed by nuns.

Oh, but look. This is the Grand Duchess, played by Valora Noland. I like the Grand Duchess. I liked her when she was in Star Trek (Patterns of Force) and I like her here. And here, she’s muddy.

Napoleon is utterly resplendent in his full diplomatic kit, including white carnation and waistcoat. We’ll see the tour de force of his outfit later.

I’m sorry, but the Grand Duchess rivals Illya in this episode for edibility. Napoleon and his diplomatic kit pale in comparison. Even her voice is divine.

I’m sorry. Napoleon looks absolutely divine. I didn’t mean it about him paling. It’s a good thing this episode is high on eye candy because it’s curiously clunky otherwise.

That’s poor Illya’s isolated gaol cell up there, with the barred window. Bechod.

He’s so bored and lonely that he has to sit there at night on his little wooden stool with his single candle, calling up girls at U.N.C.L.E. and reading aloud the Ingolstein guidebook he’s acquired. Maybe it’s Ingolstein’s version of a Gideon’s Bible. He’s even taken to telling the U.N.C.L.E. girl he wishes she was there. Linda, he doesn’t mean you. He means Napoleon. He’s just desperate. Probably because Waverly hasn’t let Napoleon talk to him in all this time. Was this some kind of intervention? A forced separation?

But don’t fear, Rapunzel-of-the-golden-hair. Prince Napoleon has arrived to free you from your turret! And look! Look at his bowler hat! I didn’t know Americans were allowed to wear bowler hats. I thought you had to have a British birth certificate, or at least a share in McVities. Isn’t he dapper?

Oh, Napoleon. Napoleon knows he looks good.

There’s lots of guff between Prince Frederick and Archie King, the bad guy with the heart of gold It’s integral to the plot but it just isn’t grabbing like dirty-faced hockey-playing Grand Duchesses, or Napoleons in bowler hats, or Illyapunzel-in-the-tower. Basically, Archie and his criminal cohorts have paid off Ingolstein’s national debt and pretty much created a new one by way of getting the Prince to lose all his money at cards (I assume it’s deliberate Archie’s surname is ‘King’ while Frederick is only a Prince), and Victoria needs to sweep in and clean up the rotten state.

 

Artie King is, at least, a rather good looking lovable rogue.

Frederick is just a European aristocrat gone to seed. There’s not much lovable about him.

What is lovable, of course, is Napoleon’s anxiety to get Illya sprung from his solitude of straw and candlelight. After all, Ingolstein has something that belongs to him.

Uncle Freddie is such a beacon of immorality that he doesn’t even wear shoes in the house. Disgusting.

Just look at Napoleon’s reaction to the shoe faux pas. Napoleon who even wears clogs when he’s preparing to go in the bath.

It’s a variation on the Rapunzel theme, but it works.

Illya’s expression when Napoleon assures him he’s been in worse gaols is priceless.

These two are so comfortable with dressing and undressing together, while bantering mercilessly.

The way Illya gazes at this man. Good god. There are women who would give up their firstborn to have him gaze at them like that.

Oh, it’s fun being Mr Waverly.

Any excuse to touch Illya, Napoleon. Any excuse.

With a marvellous piece of sleight of hand Napoleon manages to make look as if, Mary Poppins like, he can fit a bowler hat in a briefcase. Awesome work, Napoleon.

Illya and Napoleon stroll in to the local tavern for a bite of dinner. Illya has his ‘I hate criminals’ face on as they go to join the table of fugitives from justice. He’s also probably looking forward to something good to eat at last. Also, take note of how far apart their two chairs are.

Too far apart. That’s how far. So Illya has to sit on the side of his chair and lean in, and so does Napoleon, because when these two sit down if they’re not on top of each other it’s just not right.

Okay, so this is why Illya is so pissed. Because you get the feeling until this line that he’s been in that cell for a little while, but not too long. Because why would you leave a good agent locked up when all you need to do is send Napoleon in to talk to the Grand Duchess? Why, Mr Waverly? Why would you leave Illya locked in a tower cell furnished only with straw and a stool for weeks, Mr Waverly? Why? Did Illya ruin one suit too many? Did he insult your grandmother? I mean, it’s not as if he was out of contact. It’s not as if you didn’t know where he was. Did you just keep meaning to get around to sending someone in, and just forget? Also, it begs the question, why at the start is Napoleon asking if Waverly’s heard from Illya? Have they been keeping them apart for some reason? Illya’s been calling people up on his pen, but not Napoleon. Napoleon didn’t even know he was imprisoned. Why, Mr Waverly? Why?

Illya looks almost hurt at the laughter of the criminals at how long he’s been locked up. He’s really rankled about this.

Interesting little character trait of Illya’s that he cleans his cutlery off with his napkin before using it.

Food! At last. Illya, you better get that sausage down you. Somebody might – er – put you on ice.

 Oh. Bugger. Too late.

Look at Napoleon’s hands as he eats. Just look at them. This man is a hand artiste. He performs hand ballet. He is a hand god. But look at the hollow disappointment in Illya’s eyes. Can’t he at least put the sausage in his pocket before he’s put on ice by the bad guys?

Stuff happens. Blah. It concerns Artie and the criminal boss. I forget his name. Is he Illya? Is he Napoleon? Is he Victoria? No. He is dead to me. Anyway, things happy. Frederick is close to a meltdown. He needs Victoria to take a look at the account book of the Duchy of Ingolstein. Artie King is the be all and end all. They’ve even pawned the crown jewels. The only option is for Victoria to marry Artie, in order to save her country. Frederick reminds her in no uncertain terms that Victoria is, in essence, a baby-making machine. That’s her duty.

The face of a young woman who’s been told she has to marry a gangster in order to save her country. Frederick tries to convince her that she can do anything she wants with Artie once she’s married to him. Victoria probably knows that that’s not really true, but it’s a nice platitude for men to believe in so that they feel less guilt about the patriarchy. The nuns probably teach them that at the convent school. Nuns are badass.

The face of a man who wants to marry a Grand Duchess as much as the Grand Duchess wants to marry him. He’s not the type to be tied down. I suppose the truth is that Artie is, at heart, a Good Guy, so he probably would be tied down, or at least feel guilty in his philandering.

Meanwhile…

Napoleon and Illya have spent the night together in the closet, and now they’re coming out, in this episode about true love and removing masks and following one’s heart. No subtext here. None at all.

Directly upon coming out of the closest they toast to marriage. Aww, boys.

Napoleon is drinking like a man who’s spent too long locked in a closet, and was considering drinking his own urine, and he’s quite thirsty, but the idea of drinking to Artie King makes him want to vomit.

Oh, Napoleon. Hat.

Meanwhile, Waverly’s casual attire belies his agitation over the idea that everything is going to utter pot because his two top agents are spending their time rescuing each other from towers and sitting in closets together instead of managing to net the prize of about a dozen arch criminals who are dangling right in front of them.

They try to sort things out, but the trouble is that Victoria Adelaide Dagmar Alexandra Maude Xenia is a strong woman, and really Napoleon and Illya are ancillary to this whole business, because you can’t really make her do anything. Women...

There are lots of subtle shifts in time in this episode. If we include Illya’s gaol time the whole affair must have lasted well over a month. It’s much later again now, because it was morning when Waverly was dossing about in a cardigan, and now it seems to be evening in New York, and he’s mightily peeved that Napoleon still hasn’t sorted things out.

If it’s evening in New York it’s probably – what – well past midnight at least in Ingolstein, depending on the time of year and assuming five hours time difference. That’s why the tavern is deserted, but Illya and Napoleon are still hanging about there, perhaps because they’ve developed a fondness for that closet. Illya’s developed a fondness for that guidebook too, perhaps in a weird form of Stockholm Syndrome, because it was the only thing he had to read in his weary months and years in gaol in Ingolstein. If you try to take it from him he’ll probably curl up in a ball and start rocking.

Illya is torn between sarcasm, weeping into his beer, lovingly leafing through his dear book, and gazing at Napoleon. He reminds me of my friend Rob. Not that Rob is in love with Napoleon.

I think Illya is using the book as a stim toy. Meanwhile, Napoleon wonders how to stop a marriage. I think Illya is wondering how to propose one.

This exchange…

But Illya’s encyclopedic knowledge of his little guide to Ingolstein comes good, with a plan to abduct the bridegroom, using the secret passages mentioned in his book. I guess none of them led out of his gaol cell.

Sneaking occurs. Illya’s invisibility-sports-jacket is almost perfect.

Illya’s ability to climb ropes and drainpipes and trees and sheer faces of buildings never fails to amaze me. I also love the way he always takes point and helps Napoleon when he needs it.

 I don’t think I have a caption for this photo. Did you know that on average octopuses only live for two years?

 

And here the ying and yang of Napoleon and Illya’s personalities come to the fore. Snacks for Illya or bedchambers for Napoleon?

 

Ah, of course...

Oh look, they’re squeezed in a tight space together again. That’s unusual. Napoleon’s almost got his arm around Illya again. That’s unusual. Illya’s ignoring the romantic overtones and has his nose buried in a book again. That’s unusual. Napoleon looks a bit irked. Illya should be irked because he banged his head coming out of the lower part of the tunnel.

Artie, who really doesn’t want to get married, is desperately trying to sneak out, and failing.

He comes across Victoria in the chapel, obviously praying for some kind of guidance or deliverance. Deliverance comes in the realisation that Artie and Victoria really rather like each other. We learn too of the sword of St George, which is stuck in a stone. He who removes the sword will marry the Grand Duchess. Of course.

It’s not surprising that Artie can’t get it out.

It all becomes rather sweet when he gives her a ring in the form of two dice as an engagement ring.

Illya’s still doing his tour guide impression, and wandering around with rope in his hand, because he’s kinky like that. I wonder if this episode came after David McCallum played a tour guide in Three Bites of the Apple?

I want to say Napoleon and Illya come out of the closet again, but really it’s wood panelling and I don’t think it quite counts. I mean, you don’t have to stretch (at all) to see slash in this programme, so there’s no point in stretching when it’s not needed. Of course they capture Artie just after Artie has converted to good. Bad timing, agents. Again. But the boss guy whose name I don’t remember arranges for his safe-cracker friend to rig the sword of St George so he can pull it from the stone, so he’ll marry Victoria. Oh, it’s all going tits up now.

In chapel the next day. Wow. I’m a sucker for dresses like this. Don’t worry, Artie. I’ll marry her.

Look. I mean, god, look. That dress. Victoria in that dress. (Bad guy pulled sword from stone. Victoria is sad because she’d just discovered the frying pan was okay, and has been tipped into the fire.)

Meanwhile, Illya has done his bondage best on Artie, Artie is mad as a hornet, Napoleon is wearing that hat again –

– and Waverly is madder than Artie, because everything really is going to shitrags, with the news that Uber Bad Mob Guy is going to marry Victoria. There are probably a lot of people saying FFS right now.

Oh, Napoleon, go back to the bowler.

The reunion with Artie is all very touching. And there is a Plan. I think it’s mostly Victoria’s plan, or at least, she’s the one with the in depth knowledge of swords in stones.

They must keep an Evil Suit of armour handy, just in case. Mob Guy is as dismayed at the lack of suspension on the royal carriage as the Queen was on her coronation in 1953. That yellow handkerchief is a bit bold, though.

The Plan involves a mysterious white knight on a frisky horse, and some deliberately ridiculous combat that doesn’t need screencapping, because it goes on and on and on and on and on.

Napoleon and Illya’s joy does, though. They’re there to ensure fair combat.

What big paws Illya has. And wedding ring is on the right, Russian/Ukrainian style all through this episode.

For some reason Ingolstein seems to use the French flag.

Eventually Napoleon and Illya descend from on high, god like. Look at Illya, descending, god-like. And of course the white knight wins, and is revealed to be Artie. Of course it’s Artie.

Oh, Napoleon. Hat, Napoleon… Of course this pair are sitting at a table, consuming. Of course they’re sitting as close as they can. No sitting on opposite sides for Napoleon and Illya. No. They are very much on the same side.

Bad Guy gifts them with a book as he and his cohorts are being led away to the Ingolstein tour bus/prisoner transport vehicle. That’ll make Illya happy. Weddings, posies on the table, presents of books… It’s a book on ‘how a gentleman should comport himself under diverse circumstances.’ Like – being locked in a closet with his best friend? Like sharing a cosy knockwurst?

This is the local prison/tour bus. Very secure.

They do look happy, don’t they, Artie and Victoria? I suppose he’s King Arthur, isn’t he? Why did it take me the whole episode to realise that. Good lord. It’s called the Round Table Affair and there’s a sword in a stone. FFS.

As the wedding party passes Napoleon and Illya bow.

And then Illya gives Napoleon this look.

This Look. THIS LOOK for god’s sake! Even Napoleon gives him a double take. Artie may be the Grand Duke now, but Illya is the King of the Devoted Look.

FINIS